Up until July 22, I was planning for a very different life. I was planning to be busy, tired, stressed out, carefully watching the budget, and doing lots of laundry. Instead, I've traveled, bought more clothes than usual, eaten lots of nice meals (home cooked and at restaurants) and sang in a bunch of concerts with the BSO. I know I'm fortunate to be able to do all of these things, with a husband who I love to hang out with and great friends and family, but it all seems like a consolation prize. Every spontaneous outing, every dinner out, every quiet evening at home, I think about how we would be spending our time if Julian had lived, and how much I would rather be sleep deprived, splattered with baby fluids, and watching my son grow and do new things every day.
Planning things has been hard for me because of this. I drag my feet to book trips or commit to events. There's a whiny, petulant part of me that says "I don't want to do any of this, I just want Julian". I also now feel like I'm just trying to occupy myself until we have another child. An unquantified amount of time stretches out in front of me, and it must be filled. So, we go to Stowe next weekend, and then Turks and Caicos, and then I'll visit my parents in VA, and we'll go to Chicago, and New York, and Newport, and the Vineyard, and maybe we'll get a dog, and maybe I'll schedule some more voice lessons (and Taison has taken up skiing). And this is my life now. It's certainly not a bad life, it's just far from the one I thought I would be living.